


Fifty-Fifty

by HamandChiise



Series: Junker Trash [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, mostly just junkers being junk, not much, some blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 12:02:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11440467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamandChiise/pseuds/HamandChiise
Summary: The treasure would be split fifty-fifty. Roadhog was not going to guard this moron for anything less. But as time goes on, everything becomes fifty-fifty and he cannot imagine his life being split in any way but two.





	Fifty-Fifty

“Tha’s roight. Fifty Fifty. Partners.”

It was mad. In a wasteland where basic necessities were fought over with a ferocity most never witnessed, the idea of sharing anything was absurd. It was madness, lunacy.

The smaller man (though most people he met were, he didn’t utterly tower over this one) could have been easily taken down, all gangly limbs and lean muscle from a lack of nutrition. One quick jerk could have snapped his neck like balsa wood.

But there was something in his eyes. Something that stirred a long dead consciousness to life behind dark lenses. Intrigue and interest. No longer just about survival… the chance to prosper once more. Though there was still a lot of distrust, a large hand went out in the offer of a handshake. If it wasn’t lucrative enough, he could always up his body count by one more.

“Fifty Fifty.”

\----  
“Turns out we really do have it split down the middle. I got the planning, you got the escape vehicle! I got the explosives, you got the muscle, I got the brains and humor and dashing good looks…”

A solid fist against a thin ribcage earned a wheezed out groan.

“Aaand you got none ‘a that… specially the humor, piggy.”

He snarled. “Hog. Not pig.” A hand was waved in his face before a duffel bag of resources was tossed his way. Water food, enough ammunition for his shotgun… it was a good place to begin.

“There’s yer share. Not a bad start.”

Seemed the firebug shared his sentiments, as he was already off to planning their next big heist.

\------------

“It’s perfect, you hook em, and I’ll cook em!” The only sound was the clanking of chain as it was being wound around a spool. It was a rather unconventional weapon, but the pair of them had worked together to get it, using a tricky angled shot of an explosive in the factory to retrieve it.

“Shut up.” The large form rumbled, turning away and stomping to the tables to loot around. Chemicals, powders and fuses. Hmmm.... It was carefully put into bags and boxes. Fifty Fifty echoed in his mind in a lilting laugh. The weight of the spool was clicked into place by clever fingers and the hook was put into his meaty hand as firey eyes peered around to see what the big enforcer was up to.

“Izzat fer me? Aww you shouldn’t have~” 

No response but a huff of breath, but it still managed to make the madman giggle.

\-----

“Eat your own food.” A command ignored as a thin body pushed up against his, fingers scrabbling to get at the dumpling. He held it away, keeping one hand on the squirrely man’s waist. Thank goodness they weren’t in public. He would have tried it there too, to be honest. They didn’t need to make a scene after the arcade. Pachimaris were all around them, dark eyes unblinking as they wrestled.

“Want yours, you got the ones with the kimchi in ‘em!” The blonde whined, continuing to try and entwine himself enough with Hog to get what he wanted. Roadhog’s back protesting this movement, he pushed harder and eventually fell back, losing his food to the other Junker.

But a different dumpling was tossed half onto his snouted mask and mouth after a moment of chewing from Rat.

“Fifty-fifty, no worries, mate.”

Until Hog picked it up and launched it back, which began a dumpling war of tossing food at one another. “No pork.”

\------

“Idiotic.” The tone was snapped, gripping a thin arm between massive fingers with enough force to stem some of the blood flow from it.

“Not gonna… not gonna argue with you there, Hog. But you didn’t see it with them lenses. We each gave it a good walloping though- after all’s said ‘n done.”

The irritation was fizzling into frustration and concern… then more frustration at the concern over an idiot who was probably going to die because of damn heroics.

“Still stupid. Can’t pay me if you’re dead.” A table with fabric made a makeshift cot, the long frame barely fitting. Leg ruined, arm likely too. Hog was no medic but seeing that much muscle not attached was usually a poor sign. The fool himself was pretty lucid, on enough Hogdrogen to not be screeching in agony- but it made him mouthy. Least he hadn’t gone into shock. 

“These are gonna have to go.” It was a statement, and the answer was just as much one.

“Do it then.. Now.” Hog had the mercy to give him something to bite onto, but the jagged teeth marks in his hook handle never did go away.

When Junkrat woke up several days later to two stumps and remarked something about it being “really fifty-fifty now” Hog wanted to smack him though he withheld the urge (When he made the joke seven more times, he did however). But he also held the young man as he sniffled and let tears of anger and frustration slide down his long nose from eyes like the sun, and gripped a remaining hand in his much larger one as the other’s frame heaved and sobbed until sleep claimed him again.

And when in the morning Rat was surrounded by a litany of robo-junk (omnic parts, prosthetic parts and pieces, tools, boxes of wiring and cosmetics) all Hog answered as he ate breakfast was.

“Fifty fifty.”

\-------

Omnic limbs turned into boba tea, into pig shirts and gun holsters, into a sidecar decorated in an outrageously blinding yellow, into a scrapgun custom made when ammo became a scarcity for the shotgun.

Fifty-fifty.

Years went on and their renown grew, infamous crime sprees all across the world, not just in their broken home. Each time with no singular focus on one. It was fifty-fifty. Whenever their bounties were raised it was together- spotted, together. 

Always fifty-fifty.

When they were finally cornered with their backs against the wall, ready to blow up the city with them inside it, knowing they weren’t going to make it, they were prepared to do it with scrap and fire, hooking and cooking, fifty-fifty.

When, somehow, an uncaring world thought to give them another chance as they were rescued, recruited, by a vigilante operation that had been impressed with them but thought they could do something better, they may have disagreed on the reasons for it, their purpose in the world…. They still refused to do it without the other. Both had to come along, there was no compromise.

Quarters were shared, food was shared, supplies and personal space. Everything with them was fifty-fifty. Their jobs were harder now but in some ways easier. When people asked after them, they ignored them…. Until that became an impossibility.

But their comrades learned that with one came the other, or wasn’t far behind. Missions went more smoothly with both on hand, as they tended to even each other out. Junkrat was less conscious of friendly fire and innocents without Hog, and Roadhog was much the same without Junkrat. He became more vicious, more ruthless without the other there. They were still not on their best behavior when paired up of course, but things were infinitely better when they were together, and plans tended to go off without a hitch if they had the extra hands.

\----

Laying on the bed, amidst old and faded Pachimari, Roadhog had a hand on Junkrat’s lean frame as the other snoozed against him. Timezones were a bitch and a half and he wished he could be joining the younger man, but alas. He was just going to suffer for a while until he felt a metal hand poking his gut.

“Thought you were asleep.”

A shake of wiry hair tickled his skin.

“Nah, can feel you’re not.” 

“Hm.”

Another series of pokes.

“You wanna get some food? Tea?”

“You just want me to pay for it.”

Giddy laughter. “I paid for it last time! You paid the time before, we always swap.”

“Hm.”

“Come on Hog, lets go. I’ll even share my drink with you, Fifty-fifty.”

“......”

“....Hog?”

A long silence.

“Jamison. I’m here for you. No matter what. Fifty-fifty or not. Forever.”

“Same for me, Mako. Rest a me loife mixed with yers. Together.”

A quiet sigh was audible, then the bed creaked some.

“I’ll drive.”

“Woohoo!”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written when I still was being an idiot and letting my feelings out through fanfiction. It's been a wild ride since then, and I forgot to post it.
> 
> Dedicated to my Junkrat~ as always.


End file.
